Love's a Funny Thing
by Trella
Summary: Irina Derevko. 'Nuff said. (UPDATED :: He must...)
1. Turkey, Earrings, and C4

Feedback: YanKeEsNYrOck33@hotmail.com  
  
Distribution: Anywhere - I'll say yes, just ask first.  
  
Disclaimer: Surpise - Alias doesn't belong to me! Or else I wouldn't be searching for hours just for some Starbucks money. And Will would've died a long time ago. Everything belongs to J.J. Abrams, ABC, Touchstone, and Bad Robot.  
  
Summary: Irina Derevko. 'Nuff said.  
  
Rating: PG-13 (Language)  
  
Classification: Angst/Romance  
  
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She was a turkey.  
  
  
  
It's been almost thirty years and Jack still remembers. I wonder if he would have still told her if he knew I had asked her...Probably not.  
  
  
  
Seven years of this life and she is still Sydney. Perhaps the things she's suffered has changed her but she still has that compassion, her love, her...emotions.  
  
  
  
It's so easy for me to see right through her. I could always tell when she was lying or upset when no one else noticed a thing. Even now, with all her spy training and compartmentalizing, I know.  
  
  
  
When I shot her after revealing myself as the man, she looked so shocked. So hurt, so angry...and also relieved. She was happy to see me alive, no matter how much she tried to hide it. I didn't want to shoot her. But I had to keep both of us alive and keep that bastard Cuvee happy.  
  
  
  
I loved her. I still do. Even though she was, ultimately, a part of my plan to infiltrate U.S. intelligence, she was everything to me.  
  
  
  
I didn't want her in this life. She was just supposed to be a front. An appearance to others that everything was normal. Not to become a spy and lead this hell of a double life.  
  
  
  
Jack put her up to this. Unknowingly, perhaps, but he put her into this life. If he hadn't tested Project Christmas on her...  
  
  
  
I loved him too. I didn't mean to...it was just supposed to be a ruse. A game, if you may. And it worked oh-so-well. Perhaps too well. I found myself becoming Laura Bristow with less and less effort. Towards the end, I wanted to be her.  
  
  
  
The night of my escape...it took everything I had not to just take Sydney and run. How I wanted to just take off and leave this life behind. I wanted Jack to come too, but that would've been even more impossible.  
  
  
  
I almost lost my earrings in that 'accident'. As the car plunged into the icy water, I felt one of the backings come off. I almost died for that earring. It was the only thing I had of my past life, of a life before Sydney and Jack, even before all this spy crap. It was a reminder of when I was just Irina, a little girl who loved her mother.  
  
  
  
That girl died long ago. And so did her mother.  
  
  
  
How history repeats itself...But Sydney is still alive. The little girl within her hasn't died yet, and I would die to keep it that way.  
  
  
  
So would Jack. Even with the coldness and the lost years since Sydney's childhood, he loved her more than anything. Just as he loved me.  
  
  
  
He loves me still. Fool anyone, fool everyone, but he can't fool me. I see it in his eyes, I saw it through the shocked expression on his face after I kissed him. Twice. Because of an 'anniversary necklace' that was really C-4.  
  
  
  
And the look on Sydney's face...if the circumstances had been different, I even might have laughed.  
  
  
  
They both thought I had betrayed them after Cuvee saw me again. The hurt on their faces was so evident. I saw exactly what was going through Sydney's head...after everything she had done, reluctantly defending me in front of Jack and even accepting (though not forgiving, how could she?) the fact that I had killed the father of the man she loved, I betrayed her again.  
  
  
  
The only thing better than their faces was what they looked like when they saw that I was still on their side.  
  
  
  
She called me mom. And I cried. Love's a funny thing. 


	2. Technically

Feedback: YanKeEsNYrOck33@hotmail.com  
  
Distribution: Anywhere - I'll say yes, just ask first.  
  
Disclaimer: Surprise - Alias doesn't belong to me! Or else I wouldn't be searching for hours just for some Starbucks money. And Alice would've died a long time ago. Or at least been Vaughn's mom or something...I swear, she's such a soccer mom. Everything belongs to J.J. Abrams, ABC, Touchstone, and Bad Robot.  
  
Summary: Technically...  
  
Rating: PG-13 (Language)  
  
Classification: Angst/Romance  
  
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Technically, we are still married.  
  
  
  
Interesting.  
  
  
  
A strange ride it's been since I turned myself in. Why I did I still don't exactly know. It sure as hell wasn't to work with the insolent fools that called themselves central and intelligent.  
  
  
  
For Jack?  
  
  
  
Perhaps.  
  
  
  
For Sydney?  
  
  
  
Probable.  
  
  
  
Jack seems to believe I have some ulterior motive in all of this...Maybe I do. But it's not to screw him or Sydney over.  
  
  
  
I've accomplished what I first set out to do - to be able to see my daughter.  
  
  
  
But I didn't imagine anything like this. The tears...it's been so long since I cried. But when she hugged me...it took me all of my effort not to just snap the spines of those damn security guards. Just a little twist of their necks...  
  
  
  
But I doubt that would make Sydney happy. And Jack definitely wouldn't be pleased.  
  
  
  
But it would be funny. Maybe not kill them, just hurt them a little...No. Can't think that way. No matter how spineless or stupid those damn agents are, they're my only link to my daughter and my husband.  
  
  
  
But still...to see those damn idiots tremble in fear would be vastly amusing.  
  
  
  
But it wouldn't serve my purpose at all.  
  
  
  
The bond between Sydney and I must not be broken. And my other plan...yes, that one...must not be ruined...  
  
  
  
Just some loose ends I must tie up. But Sydney, and especially Jack, must not know.  
  
  
  
It'll be fairly easy to carry out once Sydney's on her next mission.  
  
  
  
Jack is still suspicious of me...but he's letting his guard down. Just a little bit.  
  
  
  
This will work well.  
  
  
  
The way he said "previous dealings"...He's so good at hiding his emotions.  
  
  
  
But not good enough.  
  
  
  
It didn't take me any thinking to know what he was talking about.  
  
  
  
His offer was pretty damn appealing. Not that I would tell him what I needed to do. But it would've been easy to come up with some trivial thing that the paranoid freaks at the (not so C or I)A would think of as a threat to diffuse and feel triumphant afterwards.  
  
  
  
But Sydney would never trust me again.  
  
  
  
And Jack just might have our marriage annulled. I doubt that though...Fraudulent premises aside, he wants nothing more than to be with Laura Bristow again.  
  
  
  
Not that he'd ever show it.  
  
  
  
And me...I want nothing more than to be Laura Bristow again.  
  
  
  
Not that I'd ever show it.  
  
  
  
So for now, we'll both just have to live with a technical marriage.  
  
  
  
Just for now. 


	3. Meeting

Feedback: YanKeEsNYrOck33@hotmail.com  
  
Distribution: Anywhere - I'll say yes, just ask first.  
  
Disclaimer: Surprise - Alias doesn't belong to me! Or else I wouldn't be searching for hours just for some Starbucks money. And Alice would've died a long time ago. Or at least been Vaughn's mom or something...I swear, she's such a soccer mom. Everything belongs to J.J. Abrams, ABC, Touchstone, and Bad Robot.  
  
Summary:  
  
Rating: PG-13 (Language)  
  
Classification: Angst  
  
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"You don't have a plan?"  
  
  
  
"No." Her eye's don't open; none of her features have even the slightest reaction.  
  
  
  
"Then why did you turn yourself in?" He's becoming impatient. Or seeming to, anyway.  
  
  
  
"Is it so difficult for you to understand that all I want is to change?"  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"Jack..." Sigh. She looks as if she's speaking to a three-year-old.  
  
  
  
"What is it that you want?"  
  
  
  
"Didn't we go over this already?" She crosses her cell to stand face to face with him.  
  
  
  
"I don't trust you."  
  
  
  
Enigmatic smile. "You are so contradictory sometimes. Do you remember...?"  
  
  
  
He smiles in spite of himself. "You mean with the fireplace?"  
  
  
  
"Yes. Just after we were married..."  
  
  
  
"I remember." For just a moment he has an almost peaceful look on his face. A moment and then it's gone.  
  
  
  
"Technically, we're still married."  
  
  
  
"I know."  
  
  
  
"You're not pushing for an anullment."  
  
  
  
All the emotion is gone from his face now.  
  
  
  
"Sloane is sending Sydney on another mission with Sark to gain more information about Echelon. I need to be there to inform her of her countermission."  
  
  
  
"Why not send her precious handler?"  
  
  
  
"I have operational control."  
  
  
  
"You didn't answer my question."  
  
  
  
"If you have any information that would be useful to Sydney-"  
  
  
  
"Just be careful of Cuvee's men. They are former KGB agents and are particularly trained in almost always precisely predicting the actions of their opponents."  
  
  
  
He turns around and leaves.  
  
  
  
"Jack..."  
  
  
  
He's afraid to turn around...but he does.  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry." There are tears in her eyes.  
  
  
  
He slowly nods. "I'll be back soon."  
  
  
  
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A/N: Pretty purple button. Click and type. Pretty please? With a Vaughn on top? What do you think? Continue? Stop immediately and torture to death? 


	4. Thirty Years

Feedback: YanKeEsNYrOck33@hotmail.com  
  
Distribution: Anywhere - I'll say yes, just ask first.  
  
Disclaimer: Surprise - Alias doesn't belong to me! Or else I wouldn't be searching for hours just for some Starbucks money. And Alice would've died a long time ago. Or at least been Vaughn's mom or something...I swear, she's such a soccer mom. Everything belongs to J.J. Abrams, ABC, Touchstone, and Bad Robot.  
  
Summary: Jack reflects on the last thirty years of his life.  
  
Rating: PG-13 (Language)  
  
Classification: Angst/Romance  
  
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Thirty years with Sloane. Thirty years of game theory and "black ops." Thirty years of double agency. Thirty years of this spy crap.  
  
  
  
Not once did I ever imagine this.  
  
  
  
She apologized. Irina Derevko showed remorse over her actions.  
  
  
  
After thirty years of experience and caution, she comes back into my life and flips it upside down in no time.  
  
  
  
She cried.  
  
  
  
The only other time I've ever seen tears in her eyes was when Sydney was born.  
  
  
  
It's just so ironic. As in Alanis-level ironic.  
  
  
  
She's reduced me to making metaphors than contain Alanis Morisette.  
  
  
  
Thirty years and I don't recall ever - ever - making a pop culture reference.  
  
  
  
So this is what I've become...  
  
  
  
I hate her. I can't trust her.  
  
  
  
But the truth is...The truth is, the contempt I feel for her is nothing when put against what I feel for myself.  
  
  
  
I let myself fall for her. I allowed my feelings to cloud my judgment. By all rights, whatever happened is entirely my fault.  
  
  
  
And the best (or worst, whichever way you look at it) part is...I still love her.  
  
  
  
Every time I see her I see Laura Bristow. The woman I married.  
  
  
  
And then there's Irina Derevko. Staring at me with that enigmatic expression, going for every weak spot she knows about and some even I didn't realize.  
  
  
  
And yet I can't tear myself away from her. Every spare moment I have I find myself thinking about her or watching her in some way.  
  
  
  
It's driving me crazy.  
  
  
  
I can't be thinking about her and directing operations at the same time. My focus is already split in so many ways. Especially with that irritatingly nosy investigator that Sloane hired. It took all my effort not to tear her head off. Pillow talk indeed...  
  
  
  
And Sydney. She's had to act like the only adult when the three of us were together.  
  
  
  
I look at her and see her mother. Sydney was right...when I see her, I see my greatest mistake. I lied to her...that is what I see.  
  
  
  
But I also see my only road to redemption. That much was true.  
  
  
  
However, contrary to her belief, my greatest mistake was not falling for Lau - Irina.  
  
  
  
It was pushing Sydney away because of Irina.  
  
  
  
Everything I've done in the last thirty years is nothing, child's play, when I think of that fact. Falling for Irina's schemes, ruthless interrogations, murdering Haladki, even Project Christmas...all fall short to the fact that I estranged Sydney in light of my own guilt and sorrow. It was the most selfish thing I have ever done.  
  
  
  
It was because of Irina. As all things seem to be.  
  
  
  
That woman cannot be trusted. She is a traitor to the U.S. government and...and to me.  
  
  
  
Screw the indignant company line. I still love her.  
  
  
  
And she knows it.  
  
  
  
She says she has no plan...can I trust her? No, no, no. I can't believe I'm even thinking about that. She is a devious, scheming, betraying, distrustful little bitch that changed Sydney's and my life forever.  
  
  
  
But I still love her. After thirty years of anger, of pain, of confusion, I still love her.  
  
  
  
We're still married. Technically.  
  
  
  
I'm still thinking about her. How can I be...when I'm driving over to someone's house for dinner and perhaps "pillow talk" (as that insolent investigator bitch so aptly put it)?  
  
  
  
But I already know the answer to that.  
  
  
  
Love's a funny thing. 


	5. Love

Feedback: YanKeEsNYrOck33@hotmail.com  
  
Distribution: Anywhere - I'll say yes, just ask first.  
  
Disclaimer: Surprise - Alias doesn't belong to me! Or else I wouldn't be searching for hours just for some Starbucks money. And Alice would've died a long time ago. Or at least been Vaughn's mom or something...I swear, she's such a soccer mom. Everything belongs to J.J. Abrams, ABC, Touchstone, and Bad Robot.  
  
Summary: Define love in three words...  
  
Rating: PG-13 (Language)  
  
Classification: Angst/Romance  
  
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He's fucking some whore. Not that I hold anything against whores and I'm sure she's too prude to be one, but it's the first thing that comes to mind.  
  
  
  
No matter, he doesn't love her. He can't.  
  
  
  
He was so afraid to turn around that day...but he did.  
  
  
  
Because he loves me.  
  
  
  
He was probably thinking about me the whole ride there and during.  
  
  
  
He loves me...not her. Or anyone else.  
  
  
  
He must love me. If only because of Sydney.  
  
  
  
Dear Sydney...Dragged into this spy crap like that.  
  
  
  
It wasn't supposed to end up that way...but that's what everyone says when their life gets fucked up by their own fault, isn't it?  
  
  
  
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Didn't mean for this to happen. Couldn't have known.  
  
  
  
What they really mean is...Couldn't I have done something to change it?  
  
  
  
Why can't one change the past?  
  
  
  
But no use contemplating such "deep" (re: bullshit) questions...what matters is now.  
  
  
  
If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do.  
  
  
  
And the only thing I can try to do now is keep my baby alive even with everything going on.  
  
  
  
And Jack...Oh, Jack.  
  
  
  
Bitter, distrustful, angered, deeply troubled, in-need-of-therapy-besides- that-hair-miracle-Barnett Jack.  
  
  
  
Our marriage was so...happy.  
  
  
  
Something that's sorely missed now.  
  
  
  
But no matter how contrived it was, how deceiving and dangerous...the Laura in me wants it to have been real.  
  
  
  
No.  
  
  
  
Needs it to have been real.  
  
  
  
How else can I hold on to my ever-decreasing sanity?  
  
  
  
Stuck behind a glass partition, unable to hug my daughter or talk with my husband (yes, husband) in private.  
  
  
  
Imprisoned, under the control of unbelievably annoying FBI officers with no intelligence.  
  
  
  
Having to wait, sit here and meditate all day, waiting for my stratagem to be executed.  
  
  
  
And all this?  
  
  
  
My own doing. My choice, if there is such a thing.  
  
  
  
Love's a funny thing...no denying that.  
  
  
  
But love...it's everything.  
  
  
  
Love is more essential than the food we eat, the water that we drink, the ground we walk on, the breath that keeps us alive. It is more real than the very ground we walk on; yet, it is more intangible than a cloud.  
  
  
  
Love is life.  
  
  
  
I should write poetry. Be the next bloody Emily Dickinson I will.  
  
  
  
Talking like Sark now...an exciting life I lead.  
  
  
  
But it's a good life, no matter everything's that's happened and the status I'm in now.  
  
  
  
My daughter's alive, and I will keep it that way, because no parent should ever - ever - outlive their child.  
  
  
  
My husband is becoming human again.  
  
  
  
Perhaps there is hope yet.  
  
  
  
Because he loves me. Jack loves me.  
  
  
  
He must...  
  
  
  
  
  
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A/N: Continue? There are shockingly less reviews for this story compared to my other one (Obsession...go read and review...por favor? S'il vous plait? Or in just plain English...please?) so I'm not sure if I should continue...I may just leave this and work on the other one forever and ever and ever...okay so maybe not that long...Anyway, I'm done sounding like Marshall. Review and I'll reward you with a certain someone with an ice- pick...I knew you'd like Noah! No? Okay, fine, I'll hand over the guy with an ice-pick in his thigh...g And yes, I am crazy, if you were wondering. See, that's the difference between crazy and insane...crazy people know they are and can live with it, and maybe even embrace it...insane people hate it and can't deal with it. So there. Now for the gorgeous purple button right there on the left... 


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